Unforgiving Miseltoe
by quiffed
Summary: The worst Christmas ever. Lily has been thrown into the Marauder mix, and while she and James are loved up under the miseltoe, their relationship is causing everyone else heartache. Dedicated to Trinity Day, for always being such a kind reviewer. It reall
1. Dude, Where's My Turkey?

Dude, Where's my Turkey?

"Anyone want some more wine?" Lily asks from her post in the kitchen. Sirius grunts in response. Remus mumbles something indecipherable, and examines his stubs of fingernails. Only James answers properly, oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room. He doesn't seem to notice Remus's oddly withdrawn mood, or the uncharacteristic subdued manner of Sirius, who is sprawled next to him on the small blue sofa.

"Sure, Lils." He glances at Remus, who shakes his head and then looks away, then at Sirius who studiously ignores him. "One, please."

Lily walks in, holding a glass of red Bordeaux. She's wearing a pretty check pink apron and her strawberry red hair has been hastily tied back in a bun. She looks homely and adorable. Remus inexplicably wants her to hug him, and rumple his hair. Sirius inexplicably feels the urge to run from the room, screaming.

"Not long now – the chicken's nearly done." Lily beams at the three boys, who stare up at her blankly. There is an awkward pause, during which no-one speaks. James looks around expectantly, but no-one responds to Lily's statement.

"Not turkey?" Sirius asks suddenly, staring into his lap. Lily jumps in surprise.

"Oh… no." Lily sweeps a few flyaway tendrils of hair behind her ear apologetically. "We couldn't get any." James laughs with feigned cheeriness, and shoots Sirius an impatient look.

"Doesn't _matter_ if we don't go along with all the Christmas traditions, Pads. Turkey's not that important."

"We always used to follow traditions," Sirius blurts out, his voice hurt and angry. "We used to have turkey. We did things way. Until…" he trails off in the middle of his speech, but his unspoken words hang in the air malevolently. _Until Lily came along_. Remus's face is an unreadable mask, showing no emotion whatsoever. James looks pained. Sirius looks unrepentant. Lily's well-meaning smile has frozen on her face.

Very slowly and deliberately, Lily puts the wine down on the coffee table, and climbs into James's lap, placing her forearms on his shoulders. She smells of delicious cooking smells, of mulled wine and cinnamon. Lily reaches into her pocket and pulls out a sprig of miseltoe. How charming. James grins at her fondly. Something whistles loudly in the kitchen. Lily ignores it. She puts her mouth to his ear.

"I love you, James."

"Love you too –" James begins gruffly, but he is cut off by Lily, who interrupts by kissing him firmly on the lips. James is startled, but eager to reassert his dominance, he kisses Lily back with enthusiasm. Lily laughs into his mouth and turns her head so that his glasses aren't pushing into the bridge of her nose. Then there is silence.

Remus watches them reluctantly, feeling faintly nauseated. A glance in Sirius's direction reveals that Sirius is staring at the couple, a look of utmost revulsion on his face. Their eyes meet over the coffee table, and for once, Remus doesn't automatically look away, but meets Sirius's gaze.

Sirius shivers inside. Remus's eyes are hard and cold and unforgiving. He stares back defiantly, not wanting to seem weak. Lily makes a murmuring noise as James kisses her throat. Remus's mouth twitches, and he looks away. Sirius lowers his eyes, scowling. He's won the staring contest, but somehow it feels like he's lost.

_Fucking bastard,_ Remus thinks suddenly. His inner English gentleman protests feebly at such explicit language, but Remus is too enraged to listen to him. _Fucking bastard… if he's so in love with James, why doesn't he just tell him and save us all the trouble of listening to his petulant whining… I can't believe he didn't tell me about them. I can't believe that he could be so… _selfish.

_Fucking Mudblood bitch,_ Sirius thinks vehemently, fuming at the far end of the sofa. He's moved as far away from Lily and James as possible. _Fucking flaunting her power over Prongs, fucking _cooking_ like a bloody house-elf, fucking ruining Christmas._ Sirius chances a glance at Remus. He's still looking at James and Lily surreptitiously, who are snuggled up to each other, whispering. They obviously don't care that there are other people in the room with them. Remus is gazing at them wistfully, fiddling with a hangnail on his left hand.

_FUCKING MOONY._ Sirius is furious all of a sudden. _Bet you fucking wish I was kissing you like that, don't you Remus… bet you wish we were laughing and joking and I was feeding you the last bit of chocolate from your advent calendar… I'm never taking you back, so don't even ask. Just don't ask. Fucking James… I am not in love with James…_

Remus stands up suddenly, shaking his head as if to clear it of unwanted thoughts.

"I'll get the kettle," he announces, his voice quavering. He walks out of the room stiffly and into the kitchen. Lily and James watch him go in silence, then James whispers something in Lily's ear and she giggles and tells him not to be so stupid. James kisses her in reply. Sirius is left sitting at one end of the tiny sofa, with an amorous James and Lily at the other end. The whistling in the kitchen stops abruptly.

"Fucking _chicken_," Sirius mutters sulkily, and gets up as well. He storms out of the door and into the kitchen, where Remus is staring blankly at the steaming kettle, trying to figure out why it was put on to boil in the first place. He turns towards Sirius as he marches in. Sirius stops in his tracks. Neither of them speak for a while. Sirius pulls out the kitchen stool and sits down on it, breathing deeply.

"I wish Peter were here," Remus says eventually, tracing a shape with his finger in the cool metal of the sink. Sirius glares sulkily. If Peter were there, instead of at his parents', nothing would be any different. Everything would be just as fucked up as it is now. Only… Peter would be there, adding to the awkwardness with his sit-on-the-fence impartiality. Sirius could just see Wormtail's face, screwed up with puzzled worry, trying to work out the logic of the feud between the couples.

"I wish Peter were here," Sirius mimics, in a high pitched imitation of Remus's voice. Then he says something he instantly regrets. "Jesus, Moony – maybe you're in love with Wormtail." Remus picks up the kettle and slowly pours the boiling water down the drain. His cheeks are tinged with pink, but he speaks evenly.

"You don't know what love is, Padfoot."

Sirius blanches.

"You – you fucking _cock_."

Remus retains his composure, and replaces the kettle on the kitchen counter. The steam from the sink adds to the intense humidity in the miniature kitchen.

"You are in love with no-one but yourself."

"How'd you figure that one out?" This comes out in a kind of sarcastic whisper. Sirius actually feels like yelling and smashing things, but Lily and Prongs are in the next room…

"You're so _maddened_ by the fact that Prongs might want to spend time with Lily more than he wants to spend time with you." Remus hisses bitterly, his words spilling out uncontrollably. "That he might take Lily's side in an argument. That he might tell Lily secrets he won't tell you. That _he loves her more than he loves you_. That you're not the most important person in his life."

"Shut up. Before I hurt you." Sirius is shaking with anger. He rises from the stool, fists clenched. Remus isn't afraid. Remus was never afraid of him, though Peter was most of the time. And even James, on occasion. But never Remus. It was one of the little things that no-one else could understand.

"Of course, I loved you. I wanted to spend eternity with you. I told you _everything_." Remus pauses, and empties a half-full glass of water into the sink, watching the liquid swirl down the plughole. "But all that wasn't enough for Messr Black, was it? You had to try and fuck James."

Sirius advances on Remus, his face like thunder. Remus doesn't bat an eyelid. Sirius's voice is low and dangerous.

"I _never _fucked James."

"Only because he didn't want you."

"That's not why –"

"Don't pretend the thought of being faithful crossed your mind at all, Pads. Tell me, how does rejection feel? How does it feel to be second best? What did it feel like when James said thanks, but no thanks? When he declined to -"

Sirius grabs the collar of Remus's shirt roughly. Remus looks faintly amused. It's infuriating.  
"You know, that's the most affection you've shown me in a month. Did it always repulse you to touch me, or did you just imagine I was Prongs?"

"Shut up." Sirius tightens his grip on Remus's shirt. "You… you… I was drunk and confused. I didn't know what I was doing…"

"You weren't there when I woke up," Remus says softly. "You promised you would be… that you'd be the first thing I'd see… but you weren't there. You were with James."

"I was drunk."

"You promised."

There is silence. Sirius lets go of Remus's shirt and looks at him helplessly.

"I… I _can't_ be in love with James."

"Why not?"

"Because I thought I was in love with you… oh, _fuck_ it."

Remus watches Sirius warily. Sirius looks at him earnestly, his dark brown eyes pleading at him. Remus knows what it must be costing Sirius to be so mature, so restrained.

_I wonder what he'd be doing if we were alone,_ Remus muses. _Yelling and smashing things?_ He continues to stare at Sirius, who is holding his head in his hands. _Or maybe he'd be ripping your clothes off. Kissing you. Insisting that he doesn't love James, that he's never loved James…_

Remus needs Sirius to jump him. To grab him and kiss him roughly. He needs Sirius to be rash and impulsive and impetuous and dispel all their problems with his wave of chaos. But now, when Remus needs Sirius to be reliably stupid and incautious, Sirius is cowering in a corner of the kitchen, vulnerable and helpless. Remus is being cruel to him. The tables have been turned, and Remus doesn't like it at all. And since Sirius won't, or can't, do anything to save the situation, Remus can't, or won't, tell Sirius that he's already forgiven him completely. A thousand times over. For everything.

"Let's go back to Lily and Prongs," Remus says, sighing. Ever practical, he picks up the bottle of red wine from the draining board, and two chipped glasses. Sirius follows Remus out of the kitchen silently, blinking back angry tears.

The only way either of them are going to get through the night in one piece is to become _extremely_ drunk.

**Part Two is in the works...**


	2. Fading Echoes Of A Christmas Carol

Fading Echoes of a Christmas Carol

"Hey, everyone! Why don't we do _presents_ now?"

Lily's chirpy suggestion startles Sirius out of his stupor. He stares at her, bleary-eyed, trying to figure out the significance of what she's just said. It takes a while for the meaning of the words to sink in.

_Oh, right._ Sirius scratches the heel of his hand ruminatively. _Presents. It's Christmas, after all. Can't have a Christmas without presents._

"Yeah, that's a great idea," Sirius answers unenthusiastically. Remus coughs as unobtrusively as possible from his seat in the armchair, but no-one thirds the present idea. James is half-asleep anyway, his glasses askew, his head resting in Lily's lap. Lily taps James on the head with her pink fingernails.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Presents!"

James yawns hugely, mumbles something indecipherable and then snuggles his head deeper into Lily's lap. Lily rolls her eyes in mock irritation and tugs at his hair. Sirius feels nauseous watching them, watching all the casual intimacy and tenderness. He wants to run into the bathroom and be sick noisily because of it, to throw up all of Lily's wonderful cooking, the chicken, the potatoes, _everything_. Or maybe it's just the after-effect of all the alcohol he's just consumed.

James sits up grudgingly and polishes his glasses on his trousers, doing his best to seem alert.

"Ok, guys. Presents! Lots of fun and merriment. Frivolity." James bounds off the sofa and extends a hand back to Lily, to pull her up. Remus pushes himself up from the sagging armchair with some difficulty. Sirius stands up, and they follow James and Lily to the tree. James and Lily's hands are still clasped tightly. Sirius's hands have been stuffed resolutely in his pockets, and Remus is holding the glass of wine he's been nursing for the past couple of hours. They don't look at each other.

_It isn't even a real tree,_ Sirius thinks miserably. There was always a real tree in the Black household, about eight foot high, perfectly trimmed and pruned to perfection. Regulus and Sirius were never allowed to decorate it – the house elves did that, to Mrs. Black's specifications – but on Christmas Eve, Sirius used to like lying on his stomach under the branches, inhaling the clean, pine scent that surrounded him.

Lily's done her best, as usual, twining tinsel and fairy-lights around the plastic shrub, hanging sparkly decorations on the needles, but just as chicken isn't _turkey_, this five-foot Muggle monstrosity can't possibly compare to the real thing. That's why Sirius decides to hate the tree, along with Christmas, the chicken, Lily and James, and especially Remus. Remus. He's still working on hating Remus, but he doesn't know if he can manage it yet.

"What did you get me?" James teases Remus, bobbing around animatedly, like a bizarre character in a cartoon. Only a flicker of annoyance shows itself on Remus's face. Lily is quietly working on moving all of Peter's presents into a small pile.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Remus says quietly, placing his untouched glass of wine on the floor and sitting down cross-legged, like a child. "Shall we start?" He glances at a large present with his name on it, clumsily wrapped in scarlet paper, though he's trying his hardest not to acknowledge it. It's Sirius's gift.

Sirius sees Remus looking at his present, and winces. He remembers agonizing over what to get, bringing it home triumphantly and then wrapping it in the bathroom whilst sitting in the sink, because that was the only room with a lock on the door, wasn't it, and he didn't want Remus coming home early and seeing what he'd bought. Not that he _minded_ that there wasn't a lock anywhere else. Why would he? They didn't have secrets from each other. Then.

"I'll do mine first, shall I? Best to get them out of the way, they're crap," Lily says cheerfully. She shoves three small parcels into each of the boys' hands. Remus unwraps his carefully, without much excitement.

"Oh! Thanks so much, Lily."

It's a pen. Not just any pen, a _beautiful_ tortoiseshell fountain pen with a silver nib. Remus knows it's silly, but he actually believes the quality of his writing improves when he's writing with a nice pen or quill, as opposed to a stubby pencil or a leaky ballpoint that keeps staining his fingers garish colours. He gives Lily a tentative smile. It's small, but genuine. She beams back.

"Oh, holy _shit_."

This statement is from James. He's holding Lily's present in his hands, cradling it in the wrapping paper, not daring to touch it for fear that it might disappear into thin air once he tries to claim it. He looks up at Lily, his eyes wide.

"You _didn't_."

"I did."

James proffers the gift to Remus, his hands trembling. Remus sees a blue slip of paper inside the wrapping paper.

"Mmm," he says vaguely, trying to figure out what it might be.

"Season ticket," James whispers, his voice hoarse. "For all of next year. I can get into any Quidditch match absolutely_ free_… bring a guest… no charge on drinks… this is un-fucking-believable!" James sets the package down reverently and envelops Lily in a huge bear-hug. She squeals in delighted excitement and makes a feeble attempt at getting free. Sirius looks down forlornly at the watch Lily bought him. It's nice. He slips it into his pocket without putting it on.

"Thanks for the watch," he mumbles, but James is occupied with kissing Lily soundly, and Remus is fingering his pen, so no-one hears. Once James has managed to extricate himself from his girlfriend, he turns on Sirius.

"Which ones are yours, mate?"

"The badly-wrapped, red ones," Sirius answers, feeling the watch in his pocket. "But I don't want to go next."

James isn't paying any attention. He hands Lily her box-shaped gift, then picks up his own parcel. He drags Remus's present out from behind the tree and sets it down near the werewolf. Lily opens her box first.

"Oh, perfume. Lovely. Thanks so much." Sirius nods gruffly in response. Perfume, to him, is a universal _girl_ gift. It's what he bought for his mother, when they still exchanged gifts. It's what he bought for his conquests, when his name was Sirius "I-Shag-Everything-That-Moves-And-Some-Things-That-Don't" Black. It's not personal. It's simply polite.

James is thrilled to bits with his present, a mirror '_because I'm so vain, right?_', and a small handmade book, entitled _How to Tell if You're a Twat_. Sirius wrote it himself, in crayon, although Remus did help with some of the illustrations. The first page reads, _Is your name James Potter?_ Then there is a space, and it says, _If you answered yes to this question, you probably are a twat, but turn the page so I can insult you further_. James, ever obedient, turns the page, and something explodes in his face.

Remus is taking an eternity to open his present. It's the largest of the three, and soon James is nearly wetting himself with impatience, apparently dying to know what's inside.

"Just _rip_ the paper _off_, Moony."

"I don't want to tear it," Remus answers, stalling for time. _I don't want to_ open _it, _he thinks sourly.

"It's _already_ torn."

Remus looks down at the gift and sees that this is true. Sirius was never the most meticulous of present wrappers. Remus remembers the Christmas of '74. It was just how he'd always imagined Armageddon, except with more sparkly coloured paper and Spellotape. Remus is distracted from his reverie by the fact that James is opening his present for him, shredding the paper in his eagerness.

"No, _I'll_ do it!" Remus lifts the large box gingerly out of the tattered remains of the wrapping and lifts up the lid. Lying in the box is a black guitar, some sheet music lying on top of it. Remus stares at it. James stares at it.

"You _play_, Moony?"

"Of course he does," Lily reminds James, picking out the sheaf of notes. "Look! I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas… Do you remember in sixth year, at the Christmas party, when you lot got him drunk? He picked up Bernard's guitar and started singing _I'm Dreaming of a White Christma_s in the corner. And _then_, by the end of the first verse, the entire room had gone deathly silent. Like in a film."

"Er," James says. "I think… possibly… the trauma I experienced hearing that carol may have caused me to block it out of my memory."

"Shut up, it was _beautiful_," Lily scolds, going over to the box and plucking the guitar strings gently. A few notes vibrate across the room. "I think it's more likely that the massive amounts of _Firewhiskey_ you drank that night caused you to forget."

"Also a possibility," James concedes. "So! Moony… are you going to sing for us? Play something!"

"I don't think so," Remus answers, putting the lid back on the top. "I'm not really in the singing mood."

"Go _on_," Lily wheedles, flapping the sheet music in front of his face. Her green eyes flash mischievously. "It'll be fun."

"If he doesn't want to sing, don't make him," Sirius protests. Everyone stares at him, and he feels his face grow hot. "I mean… if he doesn't feel up to it, then…"

"It's alright, Sirius," Remus says quietly, taking the sheet music from Lily and putting it back inside the box. "It was a really thoughtful gift. I appreciate it."

Sirius sinks onto the carpeted floor miserably.

_It wasn't supposed to be a thoughtful gift,_ he thinks sadly. _It was meant to be a _meaningful _gift. And you were meant to sing to us, and we were all meant to laugh, and take turns on it, and it was meant to be_ fun. _Not thoughtful. _

But I guess I fucked that _up, didn't I?_

"Why don't you give Pads our present to him now?" James asks Remus eventually. Remus nods obligingly, and hands Sirius a tiny blue box from the base of the tree. It isn't even wrapped.

"It's technically Moony's present, because he chose it," James tells Sirius matter-of-factly. "But there's no way he could have paid for it on his own –sorry mate, but it's true- and Wormtail and I hadn't picked out anything yet, so we all decided to share. And I forgot to wrap it, because I was out buying… other things. But you'll like it."

Sirius rolls the box around in his hands. He likes presents, but it doesn't seem as if his _best friends_ have made much of an effort this year.

"What could you have bought me that's so expensive but so _small_?" Sirius wonders aloud, not meeting Remus's eye. "It's not a diamond ring, is it?"

Irritation flickers briefly over James's face.

"No, it's not. Look, don't guess. Just _open_ it."

Sirius snaps the box open. Inside are some keys, attached to a keyring that reads: _Live fast, die young_. Sirius lifts them up with one finger and stares at James quizzically.

"Keys? Gee, thanks."

"We bought you the motorbike," James says simply. Sirius stares at him in disbelieving astonishment.

_The motorbike_.

Sirius has wanted the motorbike for _ages_. He fell in love with it instantly when he saw it in Knockturn Alley, all gleaming and polished and calling his name. _Psst! Sirius!_ Unfortunately, the bike cost far more than he could afford – nearly 150 Galleons. He hadn't even bothered to hint at it when Remus asked what he wanted for Christmas, it was so out of his price range, but he'd been saving up for it secretly. At the moment, the money in the Motorbike Fund comes to 4 Galleons, 3 Sickles and 15 Knuts. Sirius thinks he's about to cry for the second time today.

"Wow," he breathes, putting down the box and hugging James enthusiastically. It doesn't take much acting. James grins smugly, and fiddles with his glasses. Remus says nothing. Sirius blusters on regardless. "That's amazing. Just fucking… amazing. You guys are the best. I wish 'Tail were here so I could thank him." He looks down at the keys in the box with awe, and notices a folded square of parchment tucked underneath them. He picks it up and unfolds it, but before he can read it, Remus darts forward across James and snatches it from him.

"Hey," Sirius protests weakly. "My present?"

"Just some rubbish," Remus answers briskly, scrunching the parchment up into a ball along with the other scraps of wrapping paper. "I don't know why it was in there."

"It had writing on it," Sirius protests angrily, starting to get up. "It was mine."

"It was junk, trust me," Remus replies evenly, returning to his earlier state of composure. "It didn't have anything on it that would matter to you."

"It was _mine_, and you're not letting me have it!"

"Padfoot mate, _calm down_." James rests a warning hand on Sirius's shoulder. "I don't know anything about any bits of parchment. It probably fell in there by mistake. Shopping list."

_It was not fucking put in there by mistake,_ Sirius rages. _It was_ mine_, and Moony doesn't want me to see it. Fucking, fucking… I don't care. I don't care about stupid Moony anymore. I'm not going to think about what was written there. I'm just going to enjoy my motorbike._

"Fine," Sirius replies, glaring at Remus, who pretends not to notice. James claps him on the back reassuringly. "It's fine."

"I'll just go and throw all the crap away, shall I?" Remus asks. Without waiting for an answer, he leaves the room with the bundle of paper tucked under his arm. A few seconds later, Sirius can hear him scrunching it into the bin in the kitchen.

_Bastard._

Lily picks up a small, square box with her name on it. James sees her holding it, and instantly turns green, then red, then green again. Like a festive set of traffic lights.

"That's… er… that's my present."

Lily turns it over and over in her hands. She shakes it, but nothing happens. She then makes a great display of peering at it, trying to guess what it might be.

"Open it, why don't you?" Sirius asks, sounding more exasperated than he'd meant to. He just wants the present-giving to be over, so that this horrible, horrible Christmas day can finally _end_.

Lily pulls off the green wrapping paper with trepidation, and lifts the lid of her box up. Inside is a smaller box, wrapped in pink tissue paper. She tears that off quickly and opens the second box. Inside is a third box, wrapped in mauve tissue paper. She unwraps that, and pauses, raising an eyebrow. Inside the third box is a smaller package, covered with white tissue.

"That's the last one, I swear." James promises hurriedly. Lily sighs, and picks up the tiny package, picking off the tissue with her fingernails. Inside is a little silver box. She undoes the catch slowly. Sirius already thinks he knows what's inside it. It's kind of glaringly obvious, from James's newly lime green complexion and the frivolous packaging. Still, he can't help hoping that he'll be proved wrong.

He isn't.

"Oh, sweet _Merlin_," Lily breathes. She picks up the diamond ring and gazes at wonderingly as it shines in her palm. Remus enters the room silently, and stands in the doorway, looking at the scene before him in confusion. All eyes are on Lily, and the massive _ring_ in her hand.

_Please let it not be an engagement ring,_ Sirius pleads to whatever deity might be listening. Of course, if it wasn't an engagement ring, it would be mortifying, even by James's standards, but Sirius can't bear to contemplate the idea of James getting _married_.

"Lily, I love you." James says, blinking furiously behind his glasses. "Ever since you came into my life, I dunno why, but it's been _better_, and amazing, and I feel… sort of… _whole_."

Lily looks at the ring, then at James, then at the ring again. Tears are running down her cheeks, and her mascara is smudging. She looks enormously pretty nonetheless. It probably has something to do with her naïve surprise and the way her tears are making her bottle-green eyes sparkle so much.

"I know we haven't been together all that long, but I really… I really want to take care of you," James mumbles awkwardly. This is the least Boys' Club thing he's ever done in his life, this _proposing_. "And I want to give you everything you've ever wanted, and I want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my _life_. Even when we're both old and ugly, and my beautiful hair is falling out. And I want to have your babies – I mean, I want you to – I want to have kids with you, Lils. And I want… I'm not entirely sure what I want, but I just want _you_. Please marry me, Lily. Please."

"Of _course_ I will!" Lily exclaims, sobbing and laughing. "I love you, you big–"

Lily flings her arms around James's neck. James sits there, literally limp with relief. He stares at Sirius over Lily's shoulder, wet-eyed.

"How great is this, Pads?"

Sirius feels numb with self-hatred. Remus has broken up with him for a stupid fling he had with Prongs, the most heterosexual man on the planet. And now Prongs is getting married. To _Lily Evans_.

_Now I can't have either of them,_ Sirius thinks, wishing the world would begin to collapse in on itself, and so change the subject from James and Lily's engagement. _I can't have Moony, and I can't have Prongs. I guess all that's left is Peter._

"It's great, really great," Sirius agrees. His mouth is suddenly very dry and there's a huge lump in his throat. He licks his lips and swallows.

"Congratulations, James. And Lily."

"Yes, congratulations." Remus walks towards the couple and Lily stands up and hugs him. James takes the ring from her, and shuffles onto one knee. Lily blushes, and James pushes the ring up her finger tenderly before standing up proudly. They all gaze at it. It's beautiful, glittering on Lily's hand like a star.

"Why didn't you tell me you were planning this?" Sirius asks James quietly. James screws his face up in confusion. "_This_," Sirius elaborates, waving his arm vaguely. "The wedding, the proposal. The _thing_. You should have told _me_, at least."

"Oh," James replies. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He puts an arm round Lily and squeezes. "Surprise!"

Lily laughs, grabs James's hand and kisses it.

"It was an incredible surprise."

"Right," Sirius says dully looking around for an exit. He has to get out. He has to get out. "I'm just… going to the loo… you guys carry on… well done…"

Sirius stumbles out of the room, opens the first door he sees and locks the door behind him. He can hear the others cooing over Lily's engagement ring in the living room. Lily lets out a peal of angelic laughter. Breathing heavily, he turns around.

_Oh, well done,_ Sirius's brain tells him nastily. He's barricaded himself in the kitchen by accident. A mountain of dirty washing-up is lying in the sink. Dirty plates, wine glasses, stained saucers. _will have to deal with all that later, _Sirius thinks spitefully. _Hope she puts some gloves on over that shiny new ring…_

Sirius slaps his forehead irritably. He's not going to think malicious thoughts about Lily, because he's _not_ jealous of her. He doesn't want James, not in that way. Or does he? Sirius sighs, and is about to leave and seek refuge in the toilet, but a scrap of shiny paper sticking out of the bin catches his eye. _Somewhere_ in there is the parchment that Remus didn't want him to see.

Quickly checking the bolt on the door, Sirius races over to the bin and pulls out the whole bundle of paper. Bad move. Gravy splatters all over the floor, and a few leftovers tumble onto the tiles. A morsel of cheese rolls underneath the fridge. Cringing, Sirius glances backwards at the lock and begins to try and sort the trash.

Sirius can see immediately that Remus ripped up the paper, because there are scraps of yellowish parchment all over the pile of rubbish, each with portions of Remus's familiar scrawl inked on them. Sirius tries to piece them together, but it's difficult, most of them are covered in gravy and other unsavoury substances – a particularly disturbing green sludge gets stuck on his thumb and refuses to wipe off.

The most he can make out of the letter are a few random words and phrases – "motorbike", "As you always say", "choice" and, perplexingly, "antique banana". Or perhaps it's not "antique banana". Remus's handwriting, difficult to read under normal circumstances, is now almost indecipherable, due to smudging and rips down the centre of important words. Giving up, Sirius scoops up a handful of rubbish to put back in the bin, and a large scrap of parchment, much bigger than the others, flies out of the midst of it. It comes to rest at his knees. Sirius dunks the paper into the wastebasket and picks the paper up carefully, hands trembling.

It's an excerpt from something, written in cramped letters (perhaps Remus was running out of space?) and he can tell it was the last thing in the message, because near the bottom rip the top half of Remus's signature can be made out. Sirius reads it to himself silently.

_O swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. _

What shall I swear by?

Do not swear at all. Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry. And I'll believe thee.

Remus.

Sirius remembers the night of the party when Remus grabbed Bernard's guitar and started singing Christmas carols. After everyone had thrown up in increasingly inventive places and abused the use of mistletoe several times, the party had ended, and it was time for the Gryffindors to go to bed. Sirius, still coming down from the high of the party, had asked an already sober Remus to read him a bedtime story. Remus had chosen William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_.

Sirius had fallen asleep in the middle of it, shortly after Mercutio died.


	3. A New Beginning

**Part Three**

It was all over.

Christmas 1978 had come and gone quickly, and the New Year's celebrations had blurred past in a haze of half-hearted drunkenness. It had been an extremely eventful year. Just to name a few key events... the first test tube baby was born to some Muggles. Spain became a parliamentary Monarchy again. John Paul II was given the position of Pope. Larry Flynt, publisher of the hardcore porno mag HUSTLER, was shot and paralyzed from the waist down by an unknown assailant. Molly and Arthur Weasley gave birth to fraternal twins. Merton Graves, who will grow up to be cello player for The Weird Sisters, was born in St. Mungo's. His mother, Katherine, was completely surprised by the birth, having put her swelling stomach down to the vast amounts of Chocolate Frogs she'd been inexplicably craving for the past nine months. Peter Pettigrew decided he was tired of chin-length hair and got a crew-cut, to his mother's dismay. James Potter proposed to Lily Evans. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black broke up.

_Time to get on with 1979. Alone._

Remus Lupin folds up his newspaper and stares at the mildew on the walls of his hotel room blankly. He'd had to move out of Sirius's flat as soon as possible. He couldn't… stay. Not there, not where the playful teasing had morphed into tense silences, not when he inevitably ended up locking himself in the bathroom and sitting in the sink, reading, until Sirius went out to get drunk or went to bed. The big, empty double bed which they no longer shared.

Remus knows that he doesn't have nearly enough money to stay in the shabby bed-and-breakfast for more than another week. His Galleons are running out, and, unlike Sirius, he has no rich Uncle Alphard who could feasibly die in the next seven days and leave him all his money. It's not as if he hasn't _tried_ to fill up his Gringotts account. Getting employment has been hard. Bloody impossible. Humiliating. No one cares about the NEWTs he's worked so hard to get, no one cares how hard he's prepared for the interview, all they care about is the little matter of the lycanthropy. One of his interviewers didn't even bother to finish asking him questions, he simply had him escorted out of the office. It's understandable, but unfair. Remus sometimes feels he might scream with the unfairness of it all. He won't, of course, because grown men don't do such things, but he's come close.

Sirius has no idea about Remus's financial situation, of course. Sirius never thought to ask. He'd always assumed that everyone coasted through life with the same nonchalant ease did. He'd never considered that not everyone possessed a cute arse and an overflowing bank vault.

_I can't afford newspapers, _Remus realises numbly. _I can't afford this room. And I can't afford to think about Sirius._

Remus's tired gaze falls on the guitar, lying at the foot of the bed. He's been trying to avoid looking at it, thinking about it, because it's so inextricably linked with Sirius that he can't bear to touch it. Slowly, awkwardly, Remus shuffles towards the instrument, and picks it up carefully, considering it. Remus has never owned a guitar before. His parents couldn't afford instruments or lessons, not when all their money was going on doctors and potential cures for his 'problem'. Remus taught himself to play in snatches, whenever he could find someone else's guitar to practice on. Remus can't remember ever having told Sirius about how much he wanted one as a child, how envious he was whenever he heard other children complain about their piano lessons. It was that painful, agonising torture of desiring something he knew he could never have.

Remus fingers the slightly battered wood of the guitar. It's probably second-hand, but Remus likes the thought of it having been played many times before, hundreds of tuneful memories quivering over the strings. It's easy to tell why Sirius picked it. It's been painted in a gleaming black finish, it's streamlined, it's _cool_. It's a little bit too _rockstar_ for Remus's liking. Remus envisions himself onstage, topless, screaming angsty love songs into a microphone. Hmm. Maybe that's a career he could pursue. Remus Lupin: Rock God.

Remus brushes the strings with his fingers gently. A few tentative notes vibrate across the room, soft, sweet, melodious. An unwanted memory flashes before Remus's eyes – Sirius, bathed in sunlight, lying asleep on the springy grass next to the lake at Hogwarts. Remus sighs to himself. His room is dimly lit and freezing. He's worlds away from those happy days spent by the lake. Remus plucks out a few chords, getting re-acquainted with the notes. It's like riding a bicycle, really. Remus clears his throat awkwardly.

"_All the leaves are brown_," he croons, closing his eyes briefly. "_And the sky is grey_..." Remus plays a wrong note, which grates with the tune and jolts him back to reality.

_Christ, Moony._ The voice which reprimands him is not unlike Sirius's scathing tone. _Get a grip._

Sirius dismounts his new motorbike hurriedly and props it up against a lamp post, forgetting to charm it against would-be robbers. He checks a crumpled piece of paper uncertainly, glancing up at the dingy bed-and-breakfast. It's the right address, but… _why on earth would Remus want to stay here?_ He hasn't gone in yet, but already the place is turning him off: cracked windows, peeling paint, and scraps of food rotting in the gutter. Sirius can understand Remus not checking into the Ritz upon his departure, but he'd assumed he'd have gone somewhere where they at least understood _basic hygiene_.

Sirius rings the bell impatiently. There is a hush in conversation from one of the ground floor rooms, and then the door opens a fraction. A short witch with a wrinkled face glares up at him.

"Yes?"

"I want to see Mr. Lupin," Sirius explains awkwardly. The witch sneers, and looks him up and down appraisingly.

"What do you want wiv Mister Loopine?"

"It's… private." Sirius replies irritably. "Could I just go up and talk-"

"You're not gonna try and get money out of im, are ya?" The witch asks mistrustfully, sucking her yellowed teeth. "Cos I had a shady character like Mister Loopine 'ere bout two weeks ago, and a flash young feller like you turned up outta the blue and beat two shades of-"

"It's nothing like that," Sirius interrupts quickly. "I just need to ask him about something. I'll be two minutes, I swear."

The grumpy witch stalls for a couple of seconds and then stands aside to let him through.

"Room Five, just up the stairs. Don't _run_, it wears out the carpet."

Sirius looks down at the stained, mossy green carpet and privately thinks that wearing it out could only be a good thing. Nevertheless, he restrains himself and _walks_ up the stairs, the picture of obedience. Sirius pauses when he gets to Room Five, the number five daubed on the door in garish green paint. The door itself is slightly ajar. Not wanting to touch the doorknob and so catch some incurable disease, Sirius pushes the door open with his foot, and walks in. The tiny room smells funny, like rotting wood, but at least it's not carpeted, and the dim lighting from the lanterns on the wall hides how ugly the surroundings really are. Remus is sitting on the small single bed, holding the guitar Sirius bought him for Christmas.

"You're playing my guitar," Sirius blurts out in amazement. Remus doesn't hate him, at least not enough to have used the guitar as firewood to heat the freezing room. Remus flushes scarlet, and puts the guitar down immediately, dropping it on the floorboards.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

"Door was open," Sirius mumbles, recovering his composure. "I pushed it, and –"

"How did you know where I was?" Remus demands angrily, crossing the room in a few strides and slamming the door closed.

_Be angry, be defensive,_ Remus tells himself firmly. _Just get him out quickly. Then you won't have to deal with any of your emotions until he's gone._

"I _told_ James and Peter that I didn't want you-"

"Lily told me."

"Oh, _Lily_." Remus sweeps the newspaper off the table into the bin furiously. "Looks like she'll be meddling in our affairs quite regularly from now on, doesn't it? And how did you and her get so chummy? I thought you two were love rivals, vying for James's affections."

"Moony, the whole reason Lily helped me was because I swallowed my pride and _asked_ her–"

"I don't want to talk to you, Sirius. I don't _need_ you. So whether you got this address through Lily or James or Peter or Dumbledore, or Henry the Eighth is, quite frankly, irrelevant."

"I just wanted to know-"

"What, Sirius? What?" Sirius looks guilty and embarrassed.

"What you… wrote in that note."

Remus pauses, and looks at Sirius despairingly. Sirius looks back, charming and confused and caring and Remus tries his hardest to remember why he hates him.

"I don't remember."

"But-" Remus waves a weary hand to silence Sirius, and slumps down into the only chair, breathing heavily.

"And I'm glad I can't remember, because I want to forget it. All of it."

"You can't just pretend that nothing-" Sirius persists. Remus interrupts him sharply.

"Do you know what it feels like to always be second best?"

"What?"

"You and James were always _best_ best friends. You had your own secret language, you went everywhere together – I couldn't compete with that. I didn't even try. But I couldn't believe it when it seemed like I might come first for once… somewhere…"

Remus puts his head in his hands. Sirius is silent, watching him with a kind of horrified awe, utterly distraught that he's caused him so much pain. Remus talks slowly, distractedly. He's been aching to tell someone how he feels; it might as well be Sirius. He always ends up telling Sirius.

"It hurt so much when I woke up –but it always hurts- and then I was disoriented for a while. It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours… before I realised what was wrong. You weren't there." Remus laughs bitterly. "I was so _worried_. I kept imagining horrible things happening to you, things that might have stopped you being there when you promised that you… I think it was when I pictured you splinching yourself in Knockturn Alley, and the hags collecting the leftover body parts… I think that was when I Apparated to the flat- even though I hadn't healed fully…"

"Kill me," Sirius interrupts forcefully. "I deserve it. I deserve _worse_. I deserve to be locked up in Azkaban for eternity, living entirely off a diet of Snivellus's toenail clippings and spinach."

"When I got there," Remus continues, in his relentlessly calm voice. "There were empty wine bottles everywhere; the place stank of Gillyweed… I couldn't understand it. I think I was a bit confused… I started tidying up. Then I went towards the bedroom, because I could hear your laughter… so I went towards the sound… James was pulling on his trousers. You weren't wearing any." Remus's voice cracks on the last sentence.

"I just saw you looking at me, and then you left. Without saying anything. James didn't even notice." Sirius kneels down next to Remus, looking dejected. "I came after you, you know – I got dressed and ran outside. I Apparated to the Shack. Where did you go?"

"To find a razor. Or a tall cliff. Or a pub. Whichever was nearest."

"I am so, so sorry."

"Sorry won't make it not have happened," Remus sighs and looks into Sirius's apologetic brown eyes. Sirius looks stressed and tired, but very handsomely so. There are dark shadows underneath his eyes, and stubble on his cheeks. Remus feels about ten thousand times as bad as Sirius looks. "What do you _think_ I wrote in the note?" Remus asks rhetorically. "I love you. I love everything about you. You make me feel human. I was just trying to get that across, in my bumbling, stodgy, inherently English way."

"You_ are_ human, Moony."

"I'm a mess, that's what I am," Remus answers, scratching the back of his head irritably. "I can't bloody cope, I have no money, and I can't even scrape up enough Knuts to pay for a room at a place where half the customers don't have syphilis or cholera."

"I'll help you, I'll pay for-"

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me, Sirius. I don't want charity." There is a silence. Remus stares defiantly into space. Sirius looks down at the dusty floorboards in consternation.

_Why does Moony always have to be so bloody_ proud?

_Same reason you do._

"I- I didn't sleep with James, you know." Remus tenses. He shakes his head, smiling sadly.

"Don't. Just. Please don't."

"He came over, spouting incoherencies about Lily, and how he loved her so much it hurt sometimes, and how he was scared shitless but he's already spent _so much _money on her, and Christmas was romantic, wasn't it?"

"I thought you didn't know he was planning to propose," Remus states numbly. He doesn't want to hear about how it happened; he's imagined the scene enough times without having to go through that torture again…

"He was practically insensible and already drunk – would you pay any attention to him like that? I didn't think he was serious. I just did what any good friend would do…"

"Plied him with more alcohol."

"We were both pissed out of our minds. I kept talking, going on about how drunk I was, and how my liver was going to explode. And then James found the Gillyweed, and said it would cure my liver if I smoked enough of it… after I'd had a joint I turned maudlin. I started complaining about how we were losing him, losing him to middle-age and Lily and long-term relationships. He didn't like that. He grabbed me, and he looked half-crazed behind his stupid glasses, he and he kept repeating 'You're not losing me, you're not'. And then I said, 'Prove it'."

Remus looks up at Sirius, his hazel eyes boring into his friend's head.

"I never even contemplated you and James. Never saw him as a... as a _threat_.He's so undeniably… he's not homophobic like Peter, but the way he was brought up, the way he thinks… I'd have thought it would be completely alien to him."

"It wasn't that I was a guy," Sirius confirms desperately. "I could've been a Flobberworm wearing a top hat and he'd still've – he just wanted to make sure that he loved Lily enough for it not to mean anything."

"Did it mean anything to you?" Remus asks softly. Sirius doesn't reply immediately. "Well? Did it?"

"S'not… I love James. But not in that way. Not like… not like I love you. I just thought –I wasn't _thinking_ – if I could keep him there… I keep thinking we're losing him, I really do. He's growing up. I'm not growing up. What's wrong with me? You're grown up. You were probably grown up when you were seven years old. Wormtail's probably growing up, I never see him anymore. Why can't I grow up?"

"Did you…"

"What?"

"Think about me at all? During _any_ of it?"

"I did, I know I did. I didn't plan for any of it, I thought James would fall asleep around midnight and I could slip out to be with you in the morning. And when we were… in bed… we were going to go all the way, and I looked up at the window, and saw…"

"The moon."

"And I felt awful. I felt like scum. And so I didn't… with James. I passed out instead."

"Bet James was disappointed."

"Relieved, he told me," Sirius answers, not noticing the sarcasm in Remus's tone. "He couldn't believe he'd nearly gone through with it. I didn't tell him you were at the Shack, that would have killed him."

"I wonder what you would have done," Remus wonders aloud, standing up, "if you hadn't looked up and seen the moon."

Sirius stares up at Remus open-mouthed, wounded. Remus looks down at him, biting his lip. Sirius is utterly beautiful, crouching on the floor, liquid brown eyes full of hurt. Remus wanted to hug him, as soon as he walked in the room, to inhale the scent of his jet-black hair, but he had to make Sirius understand what it was that he'd done first. Remus has only felt betrayal like this once before. It was when they were fifteen, and Sirius told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow.

"The moon's not very reliable, Pads," Remus says, extending a hand with which to pull Sirius up. "It's inconstant. It changes. It's not always there. Unlike you. The Sun never changes. You're the Sun."

"Because everything revolves around me," Sirius mumbles, making a half-hearted attempt at cockiness.

"Because you're the fucking centre of my universe," Remus agrees, smiling broadly all of a sudden. "Because you're always bright, and you're big, and you make me feel warm, and when you're there, I don't notice the moon anymore. Because it's not nearly as important. You outshine it. That's what I wrote in your Christmas present."

"There's a lot of pressure in being the Sun," Sirius manages eventually. He's trying not to fling his arms around Remus and kiss him, because he doesn't know if he's been forgiven yet. Or if he'll be forgiven at all. "But if the Sun cocks up horribly… can you forgive it, please, because the sun is a stupid, stupid, inconsequential star which deserves to be sucked into a black hole and it loves you so much that it'd do anything, anything-"

"The sun's rambling," Remus admonishes, grinning. The grin lights up his face. He'd forgotten how effortlessly Sirius made him feel so happy.

"Did you write anything about bananas in that note?" Sirius asks, regaining his confidence. He thinks he might do a spontaneous little dance around the cramped room. Remus _doesn't_ hate him, Remus still loves him… even though he's been the most bastardly bastard in the entire world…

"No, I don't think so," Remus answers, stepping closer to Sirius. "I might have referenced mangoes, though..."

Sirius moves closer to Remus, close enough to feel the musky heat radiating from his body. He can smell the familiar scent of him, that biscuity aroma that's undeniably Remus. Remus blinks. His nose is millimetres away from Sirius's. If Sirius edged forward just a tiny bit nearer, they would be kissing. Remus wants Sirius to kiss him so badly. But Sirius isn't going to move. He's not going to be selfish and sweep Remus away in a wave of passion. He's not going to do anything that might make Remus regret taking him back. He's going to let Remus make the decision.

Remus bends his head forward and presses his lips to Sirius's. Sirius kisses him back gratefully, incredibly relieved. It wasn't like this with James. James was fumbling, awkward, acting how he imagined Sirius wanted him to be like. Remus doesn't need to be anything other than what he is. Sirius pulls Remus closer to him, needing the contact after so long. Remus laughs into his mouth.

"I do hope you're not planning on seducing me on the bed," he murmurs, tracing his fingers down Sirius's cheek fondly.

"Why not?" Sirius asks, his fingers groping blindly at Remus's shirt, trying to undo the buttons. Remus makes a soft protesting noise. "Seems like a good idea- to me."

"It's filthy," Remus whispers, kissing Sirius's neck. "I'm scared to sleep in it, let alone- _stop_ that, you twat."

Sirius halts briefly, his warm hands trembling underneath Remus's shirt. His dark hair's fallen in his eyes. He blows upwards, only succeeding in making it flutter in the air for a couple of seconds, and then it flops back down onto his forehead again. Remus brushes Sirius's hair away and tucks it behind his ear fondly.

"We have… all the time… in the world… to do this," he promises, kissing Sirius earnestly between words. "But… not now. And there's something in your pocket… poking into me." He slips a hand into Sirius's pocket and comes up with the keys to the motorbike. "Ah, so that was what it was."

"Couldn't be anything else," Sirius agrees cheerfully. "Except the mistletoe."

"Mistletoe?" Remus feels in Sirius's pocket once more. He fishes out some spiky green leaves, with red berries attached. "This isn't mistletoe, Pads. It's holly."

"Well, I don't know what real mistletoe looks like," Sirius huffs, pretending to be offended. "I thought if all else failed I could do a Lily and wave a plant over your head." He takes the keys back from Remus impulsively. "Come on, let's get out of here. Let's go back to the flat on the bike, and then we can spend the whole day in bed, just-"

"Sleeping?"

"Sleeping… works too." Sirius extricates himself from Remus and picks up the guitar sheepishly. "Are you ever going to play this for me, or what?"

Remus takes the guitar wordlessly, and sits down on the bed. Sirius watches in barely disguised wonderment as Remus plays a rippling chord of notes. He'd never even had an attention span large enough to master the basics on his toy recorder. Sirius sits down on the bed respectfully, cross-legged, like a schoolboy. Remus's fingers dart over the strings, playing sweet melodies Sirius thinks he knows, or ought to know. His face is the picture of concentration, and he's biting his lip in an effort not to miss any notes.

"How do you do that so well?" Sirius breathes, gazing at the guitar and Remus's blurring fingers. Remus looks up, surprised.

"Do what?"

Sirius won't tell him. He just laughs, and settles back down on the tiny bed.

"Play me some more."

It was just the beginning.

It was the start of 1979. James and Lily were going to get married, sometime in the summer. Sirius was going to be best man. Lily was still trying to persuade Remus to play at the reception. Peter came back from his annual Christmas stay at his parents, having promised to grow his hair out again, and slotted back into normal life as if nothing had happened. The fights all seemed to be over. Everything was going to be all right. There was some unease in the wizarding community, slight scares about disappearances and odd happenings, but it didn't matter. They were stronger now, and there was nothing that life could throw at them that could break them up.

_Nothing at all._


End file.
